


It Happened One Night

by Plausible_Deniability



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-27
Updated: 2019-04-27
Packaged: 2020-02-08 12:19:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18623176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Plausible_Deniability/pseuds/Plausible_Deniability
Summary: An ode to the movie of the same title, one of the first screwball rom-coms in Hollywood history and perhaps the originator of @whopooh's favorite trope. (My entry for this weekend's 24 hour flash fic challenge.)





	It Happened One Night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [whopooh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whopooh/gifts).



> (And now I owe @whopooh apologies too because I put this in the wrong flash fic collection ;-) )

**Melbourne – October, 1934**

“You didn’t like it,” Phryne asked, placing her hand on Jack’s arm as they descended the steps towards Flinders Street. 

“I didn’t say that,” he answered. The State Theater glowed behind them as it exchanged one set of patrons for another. The balmy spring evening was a welcome respite from the week of rain, and it seemed all of Melbourne crowded the downtown footpaths. 

“It’s very popular in America,” Phryne continued. “And I thought Claudette Colbert was quite lovely.” 

“The movie was amusing,” Jack conceded, guiding them swiftly across the intersection at Swanston towards Flinders Street Station and the St. Kilda tram stop. 

“But?” she prompted. 

“The business with the blanket...” he started. 

“The wall of Jericho,” she furnished. 

“It was ridiculous.” 

“Yes. It’s supposed to be a comedy.” 

“How could a blanket strung on a rope between two beds prevent a grown man and woman from acting on their attraction to one another in the privacy of a hotel room?” 

“Jack Robinson,” Phryne interjected, a smile playing under her mock-defiant tone. “Are you expecting me to believe that if we were in a similar situation in the early days of our acquaintance, you would have abandoned your considerable will power and joined me in my bed?” 

“How early in our acquaintance is this hypothetical?” he asked, a slight smile playing across his lips. 

“Before your divorce?” she offered. 

“No,” he said gravely. That portion of his life still wasn’t fit for game-playing. 

“Afterward, then,” Phryne pivoted. “Around the time of our case at the radio station.” 

“The radio station,” he repeated, genuinely searching his memory. 

“Yes, the radio station, Archie,” she teased. “You were undercover. There was a goldfish.” 

“Oh, yes,” he remembered. “A poisoned goldfish.” 

“So if, for example, we had a case immediately following that one that led us to chase a clue far out of town…” 

“Where out of town?” he queried. 

Phryne’s gaze alighted on a nearby route map outside the station. “Ballarat, I believe. But not a hotel. Your police car breaks down and we’re forced to take shelter for the evening inside an abandoned miner’s shack.” 

“Why does my car break down?” Jack asked. 

“The Hispano would never have broken down back then,” she teased. “Mr. Butler would never have allowed it.” 

“Yes, fine,” Jack conceded. “The police car breaks down.” 

“The area is quite remote, and night is falling,” Phryne continued. “It begins to rain and we can’t possibly walk for help.” 

“I get the picture.” 

“Do you Jack?,” she teased, now fully immersed in the world she was building for them both. “You see, when we open the shack — it was padlocked, but I had my trusty lock pick — we sweep the torch around the room, and find that there’s only one bed.” 

“Already outfitted with the wall of Jericho?” 

“No, that would be ridiculous,” she responded. “But you insist on creating one, you see. For some reason this cabin has an ample number of blankets, despite its state of abandon, and you insist on hanging one between us to protect my modesty.” Phryne smiled widely now, amused by her own narrator. 

Jack couldn’t help but mirror her wide smile. How anyone could resist the sparkle in her eyes was beyond him. And yet he had, hadn’t he? Somewhere back in the recesses of time. 

They’d settled happily onto a bench near the tram stop, a cool breeze drifting up from the Yarra. 

“What happens next in this story,” he asked. “We sleep? The end.” 

“In my version of this hypothetical, yes,” Phryne answered. “I’m saying that you would not have given in to temptation and ravaged me.” 

“And I’m saying I would?” Truth be told, Jack had rather enjoyed the surface of this game without entirely following the underlying logic. 

“Yes, that’s what you said when we left the theater. That any man would — that the wall of Jericho scene was implausible.” 

“For them,” Jack replied. “Implausible for the reporter — for Clark Gable and what’s her name.” 

“And for us?” Phryne asked. 

“With us, for starters, there was no abandoned miner’s shack with only one bed on the way to Ballarat,” he insisted, his tone suddenly more emphatic than playful. 

“Why are you getting so out of sorts, Jack? I thought we were playing.” 

Jack grew quiet. “That’s the point, isn’t it. I was never playing. Not back then. There was no secluded cabin but there was your very real bedroom on the second floor, and my heart breaking a little each time I told you good night at the bottom of your staircase.” 

“You didn’t _have_ to say good night, Jack. You chose to.” Phryne’s voice was quiet now too, modulating effortlessly to match her partner’s tone. 

“I _did_ have to say good night, Phryne. I couldn’t climb those stairs to your room until you were ready to love me in the way that I loved you.” 

Her eyes moistened as she held his gaze. “Not a comedy, then.” 

“No,” he said, pulling her close. “A love story.” 

After a moment the tram arrived. The world that had shrunk to the two of them and their memories grew wide again with the bustle of passengers disembarking. Jack stood and took Phryne’s hand as they climbed the short steps into the vehicle. 

“My police car would not have broken down,” he laughed, pausing in the aisle so Phryne could take her preferred seat near the open window. 

“You’ll not convince me the Hispano would have,” she echoed, her laughter ringing through the carriage and out into the night. 

She placed her head on his shoulder. He wrapped an arm around her waist. The tram rumbled south towards the St. Kilda foreshore. 

**Author's Note:**

> Melbourne's State Theater was one of the grand movie palaces of the day. Lots of great info here: <http://marvmelb.blogspot.com/2012/11/the-forgotten-history-of-forum-theatre.html>
> 
>  
> 
> ["It Happened One Night"](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/It_Happened_One_Night), starring Clark Gable and Claudette Colbert, was a surprise hit for Columbia in 1934, and is now recognized as one the first screwball romantic comedies. It opened in the U.S. in February, 1934. 
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> [Click here for a picture of the "Wall of Jericho"](https://www.telegraph.co.uk/culture/film/filmreviews/8094021/It-Happened-One-Night-review.html)


End file.
